Lady Airell's Choice (Ladies of Ardena Book 1) Read online

  Airell pushed her apprehensive thoughts away and instead waved to her father before he faded from view. She would think of his return in the summer. There would be an even greater celebration then—and hopefully a young prince accompanying him. Aye, there were plenty of things to look forward to and dream about in her future, of that she was certain.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Changing Winds

  The sound of chiming bells awoke Airell from her sleep—a joyous sound she used to love hearing in the morning. It usually signified some kind of celebration and today was no different. She covered her yawn and stretched as her maids flurried into the room to help her dress. Their lighthearted chatter lifted her mood for a moment, but then the heaviness returned as she crossed the room to look out her window. The leaves had started to fall, painting the courtyard and nearby hills in vibrant shades of crimson, russet brown and burnt orange. She loved the fall. If only her heart didn’t feel so numb.

  “We must hurry, Your Majesty,” Merrie urged. “The ceremony starts in an hour! You mustn’t be late.”

  “Aye,” she agreed and allowed them to help her dress. As they slipped her favorite red gown over her head, she stared at the wall, eyes vacant. It felt odd to not be wearing mourning clothes. Shouldn’t the kingdom cry for their fallen ruler longer than only a few months? It seemed wrong.

  Airell’s thoughts traveled back to the tragic day a few haggard members of the king’s guard returned to Daireann with her father’s body. King Malcolm had conquered Órlaith shortly after their arrival. The entire Órlaithan Royal Family was presumed dead as well, including Prince Tristan—adding salt to the deep wound in her heart. In one moment, Airell’s entire life had shifted on the breeze. She no longer recognized the path ahead of her.

  The door creaked, opening and closing behind her. Then her mother’s voice invaded her scattered thoughts. “Airell, we have to be strong today. Your brother needs our support.”

  She nodded, but remained silent—torn between her duties as Princess of Daireann and the raw emotions welling up inside.

  Her mother’s slender fingers picked up where Airell’s maids had left off and began tightening the strings on the back of her gown. “Above all, your father longed to keep his family and kingdom safe. He always put his own feelings and safety last. Now today, we must do the same, even though it pains us.”

  She blinked away a few tears and turned to her mother, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “What if I cannot do it?”

  Her mother reached to tuck a loose golden curl behind Airell’s ear. “We will get through this day together…hand in hand, my daughter.”

  During the coronation, Airell managed to find a deep calm within her soul by remembering a favorite chapter from the Bible kept in the chapel. It was in Latin, but being well educated in languages, she had an advantage over most living in the kingdom. They had to rely on a priest to translate. She felt thankful that God used the twenty-third Psalm to comfort her now.

  “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

  He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.”

  Christianity had only come to their lands during her great-grandfather’s reign, yet her father had told her stories of how much had changed in their kingdom since then and how much they had prospered.

  Airell smiled to herself, remembering her father, King Fallon, now walked beside The Great Shepherd, in heaven.

  Gwyneth squeezed her hand, bringing Airell back to the present. Her sister smiled and gave her a silent look, reminding her an important part of the ceremony approached.

  She smiled back, amazed her younger sister managed to stay so calm in the past months. Out of the three siblings, she had been the strongest, much like their father. Sometimes it seemed as though he stared out at her from Gwyneth’s eyes. Then, Airell knew she could be strong, too, for her father’s blood also ran through her veins.

  A moment later, the musicians began playing, chasing away every hint of leftover gloom within her. Then she watched as Arlan and his wife, Reagan, came down the walkway together to be crowned King and Queen of Daireann. Her sister-in-law’s flowing emerald gown looked stunning, bringing out her long auburn curls. Her brother’s robe was dark green as well, showing their solidarity with one another. They would rule over two kingdoms now, as one mind and one heart.

  As the priest placed the crown on Arlan’s head and handed him the scepter, a warm feeling spread through Airell’s heart. Her brother was young—only twenty-one years of age, yet she knew he would be a kind, fair and gentle king, like their father had been. He would put their kingdom first—making sacrifices for the good of the people. At that moment, Airell also knew something about herself. With her father gone, along with the peace they had enjoyed for years, the winds had changed. She would have to make sacrifices for her family and her kingdom. No more would she dream of having choices and being free. Serving her kingdom was her duty as Princess Airell of Daireann.

  Airell sat straight up in bed and her eyes darted around the dark room. Only a thin stream of moonlight filtered through the window. What had awakened her? Then she heard it—the beating of distant drums and a deep blast from a horn. A chill ran up Airell’s spine while snatching a robe from a nearby chair. While tying it around her waist, she rushed out her chamber door and down the long hallway with haste, nearly running headlong into her younger sister coming from the other direction.

  Gwyneth’s frightened doe eyes searched hers in the dim light. “Airell, what is going on?”

  She pulled her sister close, providing comfort for both of them and stammered, “I…I’m not certain yet. Gwyn, you need to return to your chambers. Lock the door and do not come out until I come for you.”

  Gwyneth shook her head and clung to her older sister even tighter. “No, please don’t leave me alone. I wish to stay with you.”

  Airell agreed reluctantly and held her sister close as they made their way out to the ramparts overlooking the valley. What she saw made her blood run cold. The nearby village and crops were on fire, filling the horizon with an ominous red glow. Then she saw the massive army marching toward the castle. They were under attack.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Siege

  Lady Reagan clung to her husband’s arm while they peered over the edge of the terrace outside the royal chambers. Her heart rumbled in fear with each ominous drum beat. Meeting Arlan’s troubled gaze only intensified it. Even in the dim moonlight, Reagan saw the dark circles under his cobalt eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping or eating right since his father’s death. So much responsibility had been thrust upon his shoulders in a short amount of time—and now a siege from an unknown enemy. It was all too much and too fast for him to gain his bearings.

  Reagan pushed her own fear aside and drew strength from deep within. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t been a queen—first to her kingdom, South Rhona, at five years old after the death of her father—and as of yesterday, she had become Queen Consort of Daireann. Her husband and both of their countries needed her to be strong.

  She faced Arlan and took both his large hands in hers. “Now is the time for courage, my love. Our people are relying on us to defend them.”

  All at once, the apprehension in his eyes faded and the courageous leader she knew and loved returned. He gave her a fragile smile that gradually grew strong and confident. “Aye, thank you for your wisdom, my queen. What would I do without you by my side?” He pulled her into his arms, weaving his hands through her auburn hair while kissing her with such a tender passion she never wanted to let him go. Then he headed back into their chambers, pulling her with him. “If it is King Malcolm of Brannagh, he’ll be relentless. He will not show mercy to even the women and children inside this fortress.”

  Reagan gulped as they crossed to his suit of armor in the corner of the room. “I know. ‘Ti
s why we must stand strong to protect it. If a peace treaty cannot be made, we must fight with all we have. But there has to be something he wants. I know he has a ravenous lust for gold.”

  Arlan nodded while donning his chainmail and chest plate. Then he turned so Reagan could tighten the straps. “Aye, he wants gold…and something else I’m not willing to part with.”

  Her eyes widened while helping him strap more armor on. “What is it?”

  His eyes looked troubled again for only a moment before he shook his head and managed a smile. “You needn’t worry about it, my love. ‘Twill not come to that. I’ll collaborate with my uncle and order our archers to take their place on the ramparts. Then he will make sure our foot soldiers and cavalry will be ready as well. Lives will be lost tonight, but we will be victorious by the morning sunrise. I’m certain of it.”

  Reagan cringed. There wasn’t a single memory from her childhood in South Rhona that wasn’t tinged by the effects of civil war. After fleeing from several conquered fortresses, her mother finally made the decision to accept a marriage alliance with Daireann. At twelve years old, she came to live in Arlan’s kingdom until they married six years later. Now the land she had grown to think of as home would be ravaged by war, too. The thought tormented her.

  Shaking free of her worried thoughts, Lady Reagan became aware that Arlan was fully armored and ready for battle. She embraced him one last time and then walked with him to their chamber door.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and his cobalt eyes grew intense. “I want you to promise me something. Find my mother and sisters. Then, hide in the secret passageways beneath the castle until this is all over. Do not leave, no matter what happens.”

  Reagan bit her lip, knowing she couldn’t lie to her husband, even if it would make him feel better. “‘Tis not in my blood to hide, Arlan.”

  His pleading look of despair broke her heart. “Please? I will not be able to think clearly if I know you and the rest of my family are in danger.”

  She let out a sigh of resignation. “I promise to lead your family to the hidden passageways, but I cannot promise to stay with them. I will be safe in the infirmary, tending to the wounded if I am needed. ‘Tis one of the safest places in the castle, strongly reinforced and close to the underground entrance.”

  “Reagan…” he scolded gently. You know how I feel about you working down there. ‘Tis no place for a lady, not to mention, a queen.”

  She grinned up at him innocently, pleading with her eyes for him to give in. “Perhaps I’ll be the one who rewrites the definition of a queen.”

  A reluctant chuckle slipped from his mouth. “Leave it to you to rewrite the rulebooks a day after ascending to the Daireann throne. These people do not know what they have gotten themselves into.”

  She laughed with him for a moment and then turned serious, gently stroking his cheek with her fingertips. “Arlan, I cannot sit by and do nothing. I must help our people.”

  Arlan’s worried look turned to admiration at her declaration of loyalty to Daireann’s citizens. “Our people,” he repeated with a regal grin. “Yes, I realize now more than ever, our people are blessed to have you as their queen—as am I, my Rhona bride.”

  He kissed her forehead, lingering to hold her for a moment longer. Then in an instant, he was gone.

  Lady Airell’s breath caught in her throat as she held her sister. They both watched with wide eyes as the archers showered the vast army approaching the castle with arrows. Many on the front lines fell, but it barely made a dent in their numbers. As the sun began to rise over the horizon, she observed the massive scale of their army. It stretched out over the valley in never-ending rows. When the front lines had fallen, the next row would take their place. Then, when the archer’s arrows were spent, she heard her uncle, the Duke of Beatha, call for the cavalry and foot soldiers.

  Rallying to protect their kingdom, they rushed out with brave battle cries. She watched her brother and uncle upon their horses, the distant fire gleaming off their armor. Her brother had never looked more brave and fierce as a king, yet her heart lurched, fearing for his safety.

  At first, their lines seemed to break through the rows of shadow-like soldiers below. However, before long, her heart sunk, seeing all the fallen warriors on the battlefield. The Daireann army was no match for Brannagh’s.

  Someone came up from behind and pulled them away. “Don’t watch.” Her mother whispered, holding them close.

  Airell covered her mouth and wept in horror and grief as they retreated into the safety of the castle. Why wouldn’t Arlan try to make a peace treaty? It seemed irrational to try and fight when the enemy had the advantage of surprise and numbers.

  A few minutes later, Lady Reagan rushed toward them, accompanied by four guards. Her red curls flowed behind her like a glowing flame before stopping in front of them. “Oh, I’ve been searching everywhere!” She leaned over and braced herself against the castle wall, trying to catch her breath. “Arlan sent me to find you. He wishes for all of you to hide in the secret passages.”

  A few minutes later, they had journeyed to the lower levels of the castle. Airell and Reagan felt along the wall for the hidden door. Finally, Airell felt a portion of the wall give way and a small, dark passage opened before them. The guards lit torches and guided the royal family through the winding pathways. Cobwebs stuck to Airell’s hair as they walked and the sound of dripping water filled her eardrums. Finally they entered a small chamber with stone benches along the wall, scrolls on shelves and a large locked trunk. In the corner sat a desk and chair with velvet upholstery.

  “What is this place?” Airell asked in wonder.

  “The king’s secret meeting room, Milady,” one of the guards replied. “You will be safe here.”

  Lady Reagan nodded. “This is where the king wanted you to stay. I’ll come and let you know when it is safe to return.”

  Airell’s mouth hinged open. “Where are you going?”

  The young queen pursed her lips, seeming reluctant to tell her. Finally she looked up and her eyes clouded over. “I’m going to help in the infirmary. ‘Tis not in my blood to hide.”

  She took her sister-in-law’s hand and nodded in understanding. “Nor is it in mine. I shall go with you.”

  “Airell, no,” her mother protested, eyes filled with terror. “Please, stay with us.”

  She turned to her mother with a gentle, knowing smile. “I need to do this. These are our people and they’re dying to protect us. I have to try and help them. I’ll be careful and if I hear of any danger within the castle, I will return with haste.”

  Her mother nodded and held her close for a moment. “Take two of the king’s guards. I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she murmured, trying to keep her wits about her.

  Then after saying an emotional farewell to Gwyneth, she followed Lady Reagan and the guards back up the passage. Airell didn’t know what she would find in the infirmary or what dangers they would face if the enemy made it into the castle, but she did know one thing. Years from now, when people told stories about the Siege on the Kingdom of Daireann, she wanted to be known as the princess who fought for her people—not the one who hid.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Secrets

  As Airell followed her sister-in-law into the infirmary, she was nearly blown over by the stench of blood, sweat and death. She paused in the doorway to cover her nose with the hem of her robe, but nausea swept over her regardless. The sight of the room overflowing with injured and dying warriors pushed a sob into her throat. The previous night they had all been feasting and celebrating with their families after her brother’s coronation. Now they were dying in anguish or barely clinging to life. Airell fought the urge to flee from the room and hide with her mother and sister.

  Through her fog, she heard Reagan calling for her and gathered enough courage to enter the room. She found the young queen kneeling next to a soldier with a gash in his leg. “W-what can I do to h-help?


  Reagan handed her a long strip of white bandage. “Here, will you put pressure on the wound while I gather my supplies?”

  Airell ignored the queasy feeling in her stomach and nodded, concentrating on their patient. He was young—about her age, maybe even younger—with his entire life ahead of him, only hours before. She had to put her own feelings aside to help him. Airell doubled the bandage over several times and then placed it over the wound, applying pressure, like Reagan instructed. The young man groaned in pain as she tried to stay calm herself. She felt so helpless, unable to comfort him.

  Reagan saved her, talking in a low, calming voice and asking his name. When he told her it was Liam, she assured him he was going to live and he was very brave. Airell watched her sister-in-law in amazement. How did she manage to stay so calm? She recalled seeing the queen go into the infirmary frequently to visit patients—mostly children who had fallen ill or had minor injuries. Airell thought she simply liked to be with the children, since she hadn’t any of her own yet. However, now she saw her sister-in-law possessed quite a gift for soothing and tending to patients.

  Airell held Liam’s hand while Reagan cleaned and stitched his wound. Then, when he was bandaged and resting comfortably, they moved on to the next patient. To her relief, the physician and his assistants took on the more serious injuries.

  Time blurred together, but as the day wore on, Airell started to relax and actually talk to the injured men while her sister-in-law worked. Eventually Reagan even taught her how to clean and stitch wounds under her supervision.

  At a lull in the madness, she turned to Reagan in curiosity. “Where did you learn so much about caring for the injured?”

  Reagan sighed and washed her hands in a nearby water basin. “My mother. She was what my people call a healer. When my father was a young man, he became injured in a hunting accident. She came across him in the woods and took him back to her hut. She nursed him back to health and they fell in love. The kingdom was outraged that the king had married a commoner, but eventually my mother won them over. She has such a charming way about her.” Reagan smiled. “Anyway, she taught me everything she knew about healing from an early age. I enjoy helping people, even though it’s not proper for a queen, as Arlan would say.”